Gier und Rache
by LudFelic
Summary: Greed and Revenge. Is it true that revenge is bittersweet or is it just as good as a lollipop? I guess Italy will find that out himself and in the process makes everyone else in his life strive for revenge as well. And as the fighting slowly stops, the uneasy feeling of it all happening again is still sits in everyone's stomachs.
1. Chapter 1

Gier und Rache _(greed and revenge)_

Ch. 1

It's now been 2 months since Germany left to fight Russia. Stupid Russia started it. Germany also left Italy at his house thinking it would be better if he stayed home. It was late into the night but Italy couldn't go to sleep, he could hear something or someone outside Germany's house. It was a colder night then normal and Italy decided to go out and find what was making the un-ignorable noise. He went out the front door in his shorts and t-shirt and looked both left and right before walking out the door entirely. His arms quickly folded themselves with unbearable chills beginning to swarm his body. He could begin to see his now foggy breath. He went to the left of the house and made it to the corner, where he slowly stuck his head from the side to see, Britain! 'Britain!' Italy quickly swooped his head back around the corner. He had nothing with him to protect Germany's house. 'What do I do?' Italy then heard footsteps coming closer and closer to the corner he was hiding behind. 'What do I do?!'

The footsteps then stopped and the sound of a gun shot rang around the corner. Britain began to shoot out the windows of Germany's house. No matter how scared Italy was, he had to protect Germany's home, no matter the cost. He jumped out from his corner and socked Britain straight in the jaw, knocking both of them to the ground. That was almost the only good hit Italy was ever able to land on Britain.

"I'll show you to stay in your place you weakling."

With a dead look in Britain's eyes, he then began to beat Italy. With his steel toed boots, Britain landed kicks all throughout Italy's body. Italy curled up into the fetal position in order to protect his torso and chest. Britain was still able to land painful and lasting blows the showing parts of Italy's body. Cuts and bruises began to appear on Italy and when kicking didn't feel as if it was doing the job, Britain pulled out his pistol and aimed at Italy's head. He then knelt down to get a closer shot (as if he wasn't close enough already). With a last ditch effort, Italy kicked Britain straight in the face, knocking him down. Britain grabbed his mouth and aimed his gun back at Italy. He then looked down at his hand and saw blood…. Italy struck a hard nerve… but looking back at Italy beaten and battered, Britain had what some would call 'a change in heart'.

"Fine, I'll let this one slide… but the destruction of Germany will come soon."

Britain then turned his back to Italy and placed his gun back in its hostler. He then walked away holding his jaw. Italy couldn't move. It hurt to breathe and just to lay on his side and back, it meant he'd have to deal with even more pain.

"Germany, please help me…"

Italy then stared up at the sky and saw the stars were brighter than usual. Their glow was brighter and more mesmerizing than Italy had ever seen them.

"I-I need to get up and back in the house. I need to take care of myself."

Italy then looked to the left and saw the huge sycamore tree they'd always sit under and eat apples and take the longest of naps in the summer; and in the winter they'd always make a snowman right under the tree so when the sun came up to melt the snow, the snowman wouldn't melt. Germany would always leave a first aid kit outside over by the tree just in case someone were to get hurt outside. From where he was, Italy tried to find the little white box with a red cross on the top and sides. Next to the tree he landed his eyes on the box. The outdoor patio lights were helping plenty in aiding Italy in finding such a box on a dark night.

He then forced himself on his knees and crawled to the tree. Then he laced his back up the tree and grabbed the aid kit. He began to dress all of his wounds. Bandage covered his wrists and fingers, back and belly, legs and feet, anywhere where there was a lasting cut or a terrible bruise. Once he finished, Italy was satisfied with himself.

"I protected Germany's house, well a good majority of it and I did it all by myself. I did a good job."

The night grew colder and Italy had nothing but his shorts and jacket that now lay on his shoulders. His eyes started to get heavy and Italy soon fell asleep under his favorite tree…

Hours later into the night, Germany, beaten and battered just like Italy, came home to find Italy not in the house and his kitchen windows were blown out. Germany looked out the glass back window to see Italy lying under the sycamore tree with barely anything on. He opened the door and ran outside to see the full damage of Italy, he didn't even bother to shut the door behind him. He knelt down and placed his hand on Italy's shoulder. Italy's eyes squinted open as his blurry vision formed the person he most needed to see, Germany in his same green uniform with speckles of blood and dirt covering it…. Even in his weak painful state Italy still managed to wrap his arms around Germany.

"Germany, Germany you came back!"

Germany was mortified by all the bandage that Italy had around him and then immediately grabbed Italy and carried him inside. 'Italy is freezing cold and is injured, who did this to him? Whoever it was, I'm going to make them regret what they did.'

Germany then went through the open back door and closed it with his foot. Germany then carried Italy through the hallway and into his room, placing Italy on his bed.

"What the hell did you go and get yourself into?!"

"Germany, Germany, I protected your house. I fought off the bad guy and then I couldn't move so I stayed outside."

"It's freezing out and you're all hurt, you could have killed yourself!"

Even though Germany was happy to be home and not have a pile of rubble for a house but he wasn't happy that Italy went out of the way to keep his house almost the way it was when he left. "Italy I care about you too much to let this slide. Even though my house isn't completely trashed and yes you did a fine job, I never want you to do that again… you understand?"

Italy couldn't understand why Germany was so angry, he did everything Germany told him to do before he left off to the war, except… right, 'Germany told me not to get hurt or run away. Well I listened almost all the way.'

"I'm so sorry Germany, I tried to listen to you but if I didn't do anything Britain would have destroyed the house and hurt me too!"

"Wait, Britain did this?!"

"Ya but he's gone now and…"

Germany quickly grabbed on to the sides of Italy's arms. "Why didn't you tell me before it was Britain?!"

"Germany, Germany… I'm sorry, please stop you're hurting me…"

He then let go and looked down at Italy's arms, "I'm, I'm sorry." He took a better look at Italy's bandages and realized they were a mess. "Hey, how about I fix your bandages?"

"Okay."

Germany slowly took off all the bandages from Italy's body and then began to see the boot prints and bruises that covered most of his body. Then with a careful hand, Germany replaced all the bandages with fresh wrapping he grabbed from the first aid box in the closet over on the far side wall, across from the bed. Germany then began to feel very very guilty.

"It's all my fault…" Germany mumbled under his breath.

"Ve, what? Did I just hear you blame yourself...? Germany, it's not your fault I got hurt."

"Yes it is. If I wasn't gone you would be fine." Germany's face began to turn a faint red and his eyes began to look teary.

Italy placed his warming, cold hands on Germany's cheeks, "It's not your fault. It's fine. I'm okay."

Italy then began to smile. 'How can he still smile like that even though he's in pain… he's still smiling.' Italy then moved his hands to Germany's muscly arms.

"I've missed your muscles and you of course."

Germany gave a little chuckle, "Ya I've missed you as well Italy."

Italy then gave a long yawn and Germany looked over to the night stand next to the bed to see the time, 3:48 in the morning. "Well, best be getting to bed then."

"Ya, now I can sleep… Germany's home." Italy quickly laid down and fell asleep, finally. Germany had to cover him with the sheets and he too eventually fell asleep in his dirty uniform.


	2. Chapter 2

Italy then woke up around 8:30, with no one next to him, alone like always. He immediately sprang from Germany's bed and ran down the hallway to see, Germany. One big weight lifted itself from Italy's chest, 'I thought he was gone, again.'

"Germany, what are you doing? Aren't you tired? I know I am."

"You shouldn't be up. I bet even you have a fever because of the cold. let me see." Germany then walked up to Italy and placed his palm up to Italy's head. "Just as I thought, of course you have a slight fever but I don't think it should bother you. Take it easy today."

"What about training? Don't you want to see how fast I can run from Britain today?"

"There is no training today. Instead, it's relaxing time. That's what today is. Nothing more." Germany then looked out the french back doors and stared at the sycamore tree. He then quickly swiped Italy off of his feet and carried him out the doors. The warming air of the fall day hit them both in the face with a smell of fallen leaves and semi-warm air.

Italy was more than surprised, "What is with you today? No training and now you think I'm a helpless bride. You do know that this kinda hurts."

"Yah? Well deal with it." Germany then sat down under the tree and placed Italy on his lap. "I think I'm just going to stay here all day."

Italy couldn't even begin to explain his happiness, 'Germany never acts like this. What happened to him while he was gone? Did he really miss me that much? I can't believe that.'

"You can't stay here all day Germany. What about breakfast and lunch and doing things today?"

Germany looked at Italy, "I don't have to do anything today. That's why I want to spend it with you."

As touched as Italy was, he didn't feel like doing any of the things Germany wanted to do. If anything, he wanted out of the house, "Germany I want to go out and do something with you."

"Not with your condition. How 'bout you and I stay home until you're mostly better?"

Inside Italy was screaming at Germany, but he agreed, "Ya, sure."

A few more days past and most of the bandages had been taken off of Italy's body. His fever was gone as well. Germany had decided to take a nap and left Italy to finally leave the house.

He opened the door with his brown fall jacket on and decided he needed to get Germany back for all that he did.

"I'm going to give him the best bouquet of flowers I can find. I'm so happy Germany finally left me alone. I love him but as of right now, he's too helping. It's weird. I wonder what happened while he was gone."

On his walk to the farmers market, Italy kicked through piles of leaves and splashed in small puddles left behind when it rained, though the last time it rained was before Germany came back. He finally started to see the small shops and the signs for the market.

"And now all I have to do is find the flower shop. Hmm maybe I should get some treats too. Yummy, that candy shop is in here too and I'd love some fudge right now!"

As he walked into the market, he found the flower shop with the same middle aged man that always worked there. He put a few untrimmed flowers on the counter as Italy came up to it.

"What can I get for you this time?"

Italy smiled, he did come here a lot, "Well, I'd like your biggest bouquet if that's not too much trouble."

"Ah no problem." The man turned around and looked for the best and biggest one he had. He pulled a beautiful bouquet out of its vase and handed it to Italy has he reached into his pocket for his wallet. "'Ey, it's on me today. If it's for the one you love, then you really shouldn't have to pay for it."

Italy smelled at the flowers as the man said that, "They are and he's done so much for me in the last few days."

"Then it's on me. Have a nice day."

Italy began to walk away and turned around waving his free hand, "Thank you so much and you as well!"

Italy decided he'd do some shopping while he was there, "Treats for me!"

Back at Germany's house, it was not as happy and cheerful as Italy was. Germany had gotten out of bed and decided to make something for him and Italy. He didn't even notice that Italy had gone off. Britain had gotten news that a German had come back from his little plunder with Russia. This time, Britain was going to Germany's house to kill him. He had brought a few troops. They stormed into Germany's house and found him in the kitchen. The troops shot at Germany and hit him four times, the last one knocking him to the ground. Then they surrounded him as Britain walked in and found his troops. He walked up to Germany, knelt down and grabbed him the collar.

"What the hell is your problem Britain?!" blood was coming from the sides of Germany's mouth as he spoke. More blood began to pool up under him.

"Oh nothing, just the fact that I hate you and all."

Germany's eyes began to gloss over and shut as Britain spoke.

Britain noticed, "Well since you're just going to bleed out and die anyway, I'll be on my way." Britain stepped up and turned his back to Germany. Germany took out his hand gun and shot at the troops that surrounded him. All of them fell to the ground with blood going down their foreheads.

Britain turned back around and grabbed Germany's collar again but this time had his gun aimed at Germany's temple.

"Do it. The only person who would care that I was dead is Italy and you've already beat him up for no good reason so."

Britain couldn't believe what he was hearing, "Pft the one that would care? You've got to be kidding me."

Germany was now struggling to get his words out, "Ga, the only one that cares about me and he didn't even get to say goodbye. You know how sad that little Italian would be? You know what's even more ironic is that I promised I would always protect him but you had to come in and almost kill him. How does that make you feel?"

Britain lowered his gun, "Ha, I hate you. You make me feel like the bad guy but I'm not. You are."

"I don't understand how I am, I've done nothing wrong. Russia and I fought and then it was over. It had nothing to do with you. Why do you hate me?"

"There is no reason, I just hate you."

Germany closed his eyes, "Huu, whatever you say…"

Britain was bored at this point. He wasn't just going to shoot Germany and walk away. So instead he just walked away and let his enemy bleed out on the kitchen floor. Blood covered the floor and Germany couldn't stay awake anymore, it was too hard. The amount of blood loose was just too much and his skin began to grow pale and cold.

It was only minutes after Britain left that Italy came though the opened front door to see something lying on the floor. He noticed it was a foot and ran over in panic. The bodies of British soldiers and then, Germany!

"Germany! Germany!"

Italy's flowers and candies hit the floor as he ran to Germany and picked up his head and put it in his lap. Italy felt for a pulse and any sort of life still left in him.

"Germany?! Wake up! Germany!"

He found a slight pulse and then saw a pale hand lifting up to his face. A soft voce spoke, "Hey, what would really help is if you'd call 911."

Italy dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone dialing those famous three numbers, 911. They picked up, and he immediately started talking, "Please help, my best friend has been shot and I don't think he'll make it! Please hurry!"

He couldn't think of anything else to say so he just listened. They came in a matter of minutes. Two paramedics came through the door with a stretcher and a medical bag. They both started to work on Germany. One of them had to keep Italy back as they loaded Germany on the stretcher and put him in the back of the ambulance. Italy tried to get to Germany but was held back again by the paramedic as they closed the back doors and drove off with lights flashing.

Italy, in a state of anger and shock, looked behind him to see his flowers, soaked in the pool of blood they had fallen in when they fell. He picked them up, crying with no end.

"G-Germany's flowers are ruined…"

The blood had soaked into the pedals and ruined them. He dropped them back on to the bloody floor. Italy had blood on his hands and lap thanks to him holding Germany in is arms, maybe even for the last time.

Something then sparked deep down in Italy. He was angrier than he's ever felt. He looked down at the floor and saw Germany's gun off to the side. He picked it up and looked to see that there were a few more rounds left in it. He put it in his jacket pocket and walked in Germany's room. He opened the closet door to see a large gun case. He pulled it out and laid it on the bed, unlatching the case. He opened it up and revealed a fully automated Kalashnikov AK-12 assault rifle, already loaded with an engraving on the side, " _Ludwig Beilschmidt, hope you like this one. Prussia and I got it for you. ~love Italy."_

"Rot in hell Britain. I know what this gun can do and I hope you're ready for pay back. No one hurts my Germany…"

He walked out of the house with Germany's gun by his side. Blood still covered his hands and clothes but that wasn't going to stop him from killing that bastard. Once he made it to Britain's house, he opened the door and stormed in, to find Britain lying on the couch, watching TV. Britain sat up quickly and pulled out his gun from it hostler.

"Hey it's the little coward. So did that German give up the ghost? That must be why you're here, am I right?"

They stared at each other, neither one moving or staying another word. Tears slowly moved down Italy's face as he tried to be the strong man Germany wanted him to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Italy, in the state he was in, couldn't help but yell, "First you go and hurt me! Ya I didn't care all that much but Germany did! Then you go and hurt him while I'm not there?! That's a dick move, Britain! That's the cowards' way out!"

"Oh? So he isn't dead? That must only mean he's closer to death but not yet there. Why are you here? Once you get back your friend will be dead. Go to him… I'm betting it'd be better to cry over your loved one while you still have the chance."

More tears streamed down Italy's face as the words Britain said pierced his very being.

In Germany's situation, there was much less yelling and crying. The hospital room he had been placed in was silent except for the ' _beep beep beep'_ of his heart monitor. He woke up with no pain at all. IV's and a blood line were stuck into his arms and a hospital blanket covered his legs and lap. He looked around and saw nothing but an empty chair and an opened window.

"How surprising. Italy isn't here… he'd be crying on my bed right now. Why isn't he here?"

And then a sort of un-comfort struck the back of Germany's neck, the same feeling he gets when Italy is in trouble. He sat up in his bed and decided that he'd be fine to go. What he didn't know was that the doctors had given him pain medicine that would last for a good portion of the day as long as he didn't move around too much. But what Germany was about to do would make it as if there wasn't even medicine at all. He saw that on the ground next to his bed was a bag. He flipped his legs around the edge of the bed and reached for it. He opened it up to see his jacket and shirt. Surprisingly enough the doctors or nurses didn't take off his pants.

"That's odd. Oh and they even washed my clothes. How kind of them. Ha they didn't wash my pants though, they're still a bloody mess."

He looked at his chest and arms, "Those damned soldiers aimed for my chest yet didn't even kill me. How weak. And Britain he had the chance yet he didn't take it. I'll make him pay for what he's done to us." Then the feeling hit him again. "I need to get out of here and find where Italy went off to. I feel as if he might get himself killed."

Without hesitation, Germany took the needles out of his arms and took the patches for the heart monitor off. He slipped his shirt over his head and put his jacket on feeling around in the pockets for his gun, 'It's not here… it still must be at the house.'

He walked out of his room and out the doors of the hospital. Oddly enough, no one stopped him from leaving. But as he walked he felt the feeling once more and started to run. And once he made it to his house and through the still opened door, he saw that Italy was not there. He walked into the bloody mess of a kitchen, and saw Italy's flowers, wilted and soaked in blood. He picked them off the ground as blood droplets splashed into the pool.

"He got these for me?" Germany looked around as if he'd find Italy standing behind him waiting to be seen. He looked back at them, then at the bodies on the floor. "Where have you run off to?" And then it suddenly clicked, "I know where he is!"

Germany ran into his room in this last ditch effort in hopes Italy was there. As he opened the door, the only thing he saw was his opened gun case on the bed. He put his hands on the sides of the case and closed his eyes. "He's going to get himself killed for no good reason."

He ran into his closest and pulled out a smaller box from under some clothes. He opened it and pulled out a small hand gun with a few magazines already loaded. He loaded one in the gun and put it in his pants pocket. "If I don't hurry, he'll be the one to die." He then ran down the street to Britain's house.

Britain had no plans in letting Italy walk out of this one alive. His shots where exactly where he intended to shoot; Italy had no chance. For sure he dug his finger into the trigger and fired but he had only managed to hit Britain a couple of times, and where he had hit him wouldn't have stopped him. Once in the left arm and twice in his right shoulder. Italy might have gotten his shots off but so had Britain. He had managed to shoot Italy in the left thigh, his stomach and his left shooting hand. Now Italy couldn't even pull the trigger to Germany's gun. He had walked Italy into a corner and had his gun to Italy's head once again.

"This seems familiar doesn't it you stupid Italian."

Italy's shot hand was streaming blood down his fingertips and on to the floor. He couldn't do anything but feel his body grow ever more cold as his hopes in avenging Germany faded away.

"B-but at least I tried."

"Oh you did, and this is the reward you'll get for your bravery."

Britain's finger slowly etched into the trigger; Italy closed his eyes and cringed waiting for the instant pain to kill him and then, 'BANG! BANG!'

Silence. Italy slowly opened his eyes to see a smoking gun aimed at him and a bullet hole in the wall behind him, next to his head. Britain's free hand covered a bleeding hole in the middle of his chest. Blood oozed from the sides of his mouth as he slowly turned around and faced his front door. Germany, in his military stance, holding too, a smoking gun, looked at both Britain and Italy. Britain's eyes began to fog up and close.

"You damned bastard… y-you made me miss… I ha-…"

Britain fell face first on the wooden floor and quickly a pool of blood formed under him. Italy slid down the wall as Germany ran to him. Germany knelt down and put his hand to Italy's face. Italy was already crying.

"I'm sorry Italy. I couldn't protect you."

Italy put both his hands on to Germany's face, "I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I tried to help but all I did was mess up."

Germany looked him in the eyes, "Why did you think you could beat an idiot like Britain?! You could have been killed!"

"But I tried."

Germany could feel pains surging through his body. His free hand helped keep him up. He looked back up at Italy with a cold sweat forming over his brow. "I need you to call 911 again, but this time, for both of us."

Italy looked at Germany's shirt and noticed where he had been shot. Blood was beginning to stain his shirt again. His wounds had opened up. Italy looked for a phone and noticed Britain had one in his pocket. With the last of his strength, he reached over and called again, yelling once more that they needed help fast. Germany tried to stay up right but passed out on to the floor and as Italy tried to help him out, his felt his vision go foggy and passed out against the wall.

The paramedics arrived once more in a matter of minutes, this time bringing in three stretchers. Each country was placed on one and wheeled into an ambulance and to the hospital. Germany's wounds were re-bandaged and Italy was taken into surgery to remove bullets and to fix a fracture in his hand. Britain's body was taken to the morgue and three days later, his funeral was held. Everyone in their right mind showed up to it. America, out of everyone, was the most hit by his death. But knowing America, he probably wouldn't do anything to Germany or Italy. He had heard the story of what Britain had done and actually felt worse for Germany and Italy than he did Britain. It's as almost if America felt that Britain had gotten what he deserved.

After a week of sleeping, Germany woke up with the sounds of a heart monitor. Again he looked around the room and saw that it was empty but this time, he didn't question where Italy was. He knew he was fine and not trying to get himself killed. Once more he flipped his legs over to the side of the bed and found a bag with his shirt and jacket in it. He took out the needles and took off the patches for the heart monitor. On went his shirt and jacket and he was out of the room. He walked to the front desk and saw one nurse at her computer.

"Excuse me but do you know where Feliciano Vargas would be?"

She looked up from her computer and smiled, "Oh you must be Ludwig; you came in with him. He's right around the corner in room 12."

Germany gave a slight bow of his head, "Thank you."

He walked around the corner and looked at the room numbers slowly increasing. "Ah 12."

He put his hand on the handle, gave a deep breath and opened the door to see Italy siting in his bed staring out his opened window. He looked over and smiled.

"Germany, you're here!"

He quickly wrapped Italy in one of the biggest hugs he's ever given any one.

"Ve Germany, you're in a good mood."

"I'm just happy to see you."

They both still had bandages on them but they looked as good as new.

"I just want to go home, you?"

"Ve Germany, home sounds perfect."

They both gave wide smiles to each other. Germany then helped Italy take all the things stuck to him off. He also gave Italy his clothes and slipped them on. Both of them walked out of the hospital, holding hands as they walked home.

The door this time was shut and as Germany opened the door they saw that the house was spotless. The broken window was fixed, the bloody soldiers and blood were gone and sparkles filled the house. They then saw Japan, completely passed out on the couch. Italy ran up to him and grabbed him in a big hug, terrifying Japan!

"Thank you thank you thank you so much Japan!"

"Uh hai, yes, prease ret go of me."

"Ah ya."

Japan gave a sigh and looked at Germany, "I thought it would be nice to come home to a crean house."

"Ah ga, thanks Japan."

"I arso found your guns and put them back where they went."

"That's excellent. Thank you."

"It's no probrem rearry." He rubbed his eyes and laid back down on the couch, quickly falling back to sleep.

Germany looked at Italy and then at those french doors to see their favorite tree. "Hey Italy, let's take a nap too." He grabbed on to Italy's hand and they both walked out the doors. Germany sat down under the tree and Italy sat on his lap with his arms around Germany's next. His head pressed against Germany's chest.

"Ha, the last time we were like this, we had a problem on our hands."

"Ve, and now there's nothing to worry about."

"Well, until Britain comes back we have nothing to worry about."

"Oh right. A country like him is hard to kill."

"Yes Italy. He'll be back but I doubt he'll try that kind of crap again."

Germany's eyes started to close as he listened to the autumn breeze run its way through the remaining leaves on the tree.

Italy did the same and eventually both fell asleep, as always under their favorite tree.

Italy, in the state he was in, couldn't help but yell, "First you go and hurt me! Ya I didn't care all that much but Germany did! Then you go and hurt him while I'm not there?! That's a dick move, Britain! That's the cowards' way out!"

"Oh? So he isn't dead? That must only mean he's closer to death but not yet there. Why are you here? Once you get back your friend will be dead. Go to him… I'm betting it'd be better to cry over your loved one while you still have the chance."

More tears streamed down Italy's face as the words Britain said pierced his very being.

In Germany's situation, there was much less yelling and crying. The hospital room he had been placed in was silent except for the ' _beep beep beep'_ of his heart monitor. He woke up with no pain at all. IV's and a blood line were stuck into his arms and a hospital blanket covered his legs and lap. He looked around and saw nothing but an empty chair and an opened window.

"How surprising. Italy isn't here… he'd be crying on my bed right now. Why isn't he here?"

And then a sort of un-comfort struck the back of Germany's neck, the same feeling he gets when Italy is in trouble. He sat up in his bed and decided that he'd be fine to go. What he didn't know was that the doctors had given him pain medicine that would last for a good portion of the day as long as he didn't move around too much. But what Germany was about to do would make it as if there wasn't even medicine at all. He saw that on the ground next to his bed was a bag. He flipped his legs around the edge of the bed and reached for it. He opened it up to see his jacket and shirt. Surprisingly enough the doctors or nurses didn't take off his pants.

"That's odd. Oh and they even washed my clothes. How kind of them. Ha they didn't wash my pants though, they're still a bloody mess."

He looked at his chest and arms, "Those damned soldiers aimed for my chest yet didn't even kill me. How weak. And Britain he had the chance yet he didn't take it. I'll make him pay for what he's done to us." Then the feeling hit him again. "I need to get out of here and find where Italy went off to. I feel as if he might get himself killed."

Without hesitation, Germany took the needles out of his arms and took the patches for the heart monitor off. He slipped his shirt over his head and put his jacket on feeling around in the pockets for his gun, 'It's not here… it still must be at the house.'

He walked out of his room and out the doors of the hospital. Oddly enough, no one stopped him from leaving. But as he walked he felt the feeling once more and started to run. And once he made it to his house and through the still opened door, he saw that Italy was not there. He walked into the bloody mess of a kitchen, and saw Italy's flowers, wilted and soaked in blood. He picked them off the ground as blood droplets splashed into the pool.

"He got these for me?" Germany looked around as if he'd find Italy standing behind him waiting to be seen. He looked back at them, then at the bodies on the floor. "Where have you run off to?" And then it suddenly clicked, "I know where he is!"

Germany ran into his room in this last ditch effort in hopes Italy was there. As he opened the door, the only thing he saw was his opened gun case on the bed. He put his hands on the sides of the case and closed his eyes. "He's going to get himself killed for no good reason."

He ran into his closest and pulled out a smaller box from under some clothes. He opened it and pulled out a small hand gun with a few magazines already loaded. He loaded one in the gun and put it in his pants pocket. "If I don't hurry, he'll be the one to die." He then ran down the street to Britain's house.

Britain had no plans in letting Italy walk out of this one alive. His shots where exactly where he intended to shoot; Italy had no chance. For sure he dug his finger into the trigger and fired but he had only managed to hit Britain a couple of times, and where he had hit him wouldn't have stopped him. Once in the left arm and twice in his right shoulder. Italy might have gotten his shots off but so had Britain. He had managed to shoot Italy in the left thigh, his stomach and his left shooting hand. Now Italy couldn't even pull the trigger to Germany's gun. He had walked Italy into a corner and had his gun to Italy's head once again.

"This seems familiar doesn't it you stupid Italian."

Italy's shot hand was streaming blood down his fingertips and on to the floor. He couldn't do anything but feel his body grow ever more cold as his hopes in avenging Germany faded away.

"B-but at least I tried."

"Oh you did, and this is the reward you'll get for your bravery."

Britain's finger slowly etched into the trigger; Italy closed his eyes and cringed waiting for the instant pain to kill him and then, 'BANG! BANG!'

Silence. Italy slowly opened his eyes to see a smoking gun aimed at him and a bullet hole in the wall behind him, next to his head. Britain's free hand covered a bleeding hole in the middle of his chest. Blood oozed from the sides of his mouth as he slowly turned around and faced his front door. Germany, in his military stance, holding too, a smoking gun, looked at both Britain and Italy. Britain's eyes began to fog up and close.

"You damned bastard… y-you made me miss… I ha-…"

Britain fell face first on the wooden floor and quickly a pool of blood formed under him. Italy slid down the wall as Germany ran to him. Germany knelt down and put his hand to Italy's face. Italy was already crying.

"I'm sorry Italy. I couldn't protect you."

Italy put both his hands on to Germany's face, "I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I tried to help but all I did was mess up."

Germany looked him in the eyes, "Why did you think you could beat an idiot like Britain?! You could have been killed!"

"But I tried."

Germany could feel pains surging through his body. His free hand helped keep him up. He looked back up at Italy with a cold sweat forming over his brow. "I need you to call 911 again, but this time, for both of us."

Italy looked at Germany's shirt and noticed where he had been shot. Blood was beginning to stain his shirt again. His wounds had opened up. Italy looked for a phone and noticed Britain had one in his pocket. With the last of his strength, he reached over and called again, yelling once more that they needed help fast. Germany tried to stay up right but passed out on to the floor and as Italy tried to help him out, his felt his vision go foggy and passed out against the wall.

The paramedics arrived once more in a matter of minutes, this time bringing in three stretchers. Each country was placed on one and wheeled into an ambulance and to the hospital. Germany's wounds were re-bandaged and Italy was taken into surgery to remove bullets and to fix a fracture in his hand. Britain's body was taken to the morgue and three days later, his funeral was held. Everyone in their right mind showed up to it. America, out of everyone, was the most hit by his death. But knowing America, he probably wouldn't do anything to Germany or Italy. He had heard the story of what Britain had done and actually felt worse for Germany and Italy than he did Britain. It's as almost if America felt that Britain had gotten what he deserved.

After a week of sleeping, Germany woke up with the sounds of a heart monitor. Again he looked around the room and saw that it was empty but this time, he didn't question where Italy was. He knew he was fine and not trying to get himself killed. Once more he flipped his legs over to the side of the bed and found a bag with his shirt and jacket in it. He took out the needles and took off the patches for the heart monitor. On went his shirt and jacket and he was out of the room. He walked to the front desk and saw one nurse at her computer.

"Excuse me but do you know where Feliciano Vargas would be?"

She looked up from her computer and smiled, "Oh you must be Ludwig; you came in with him. He's right around the corner in room 12."

Germany gave a slight bow of his head, "Thank you."

He walked around the corner and looked at the room numbers slowly increasing. "Ah 12."

He put his hand on the handle, gave a deep breath and opened the door to see Italy siting in his bed staring out his opened window. He looked over and smiled.

"Germany, you're here!"

He quickly wrapped Italy in one of the biggest hugs he's ever given any one.

"Ve Germany, you're in a good mood."

"I'm just happy to see you."

They both still had bandages on them but they looked as good as new.

"I just want to go home, you?"

"Ve Germany, home sounds perfect."

They both gave wide smiles to each other. Germany then helped Italy take all the things stuck to him off. He also gave Italy his clothes and slipped them on. Both of them walked out of the hospital, holding hands as they walked home.

The door this time was shut and as Germany opened the door they saw that the house was spotless. The broken window was fixed, the bloody soldiers and blood were gone and sparkles filled the house. They then saw Japan, completely passed out on the couch. Italy ran up to him and grabbed him in a big hug, terrifying Japan!

"Thank you thank you thank you so much Japan!"

"Uh hai, yes, prease ret go of me."

"Ah ya."

Japan gave a sigh and looked at Germany, "I thought it would be nice to come home to a crean house."

"Ah ga, thanks Japan."

"I arso found your guns and put them back where they went."

"That's excellent. Thank you."

"It's no probrem rearry." He rubbed his eyes and laid back down on the couch, quickly falling back to sleep.

Germany looked at Italy and then at those french doors to see their favorite tree. "Hey Italy, let's take a nap too." He grabbed on to Italy's hand and they both walked out the doors. Germany sat down under the tree and Italy sat on his lap with his arms around Germany's next. His head pressed against Germany's chest.

"Ha, the last time we were like this, we had a problem on our hands."

"Ve, and now there's nothing to worry about."

"Well, until Britain comes back we have nothing to worry about."

"Oh right. A country like him is hard to kill."

"Yes Italy. He'll be back but I doubt he'll try that kind of crap again."

Germany's eyes started to close as he listened to the autumn breeze run its way through the remaining leaves on the tree.

Italy did the same and eventually both fell asleep, as always under their favorite tree.


End file.
